


Resonance

by theorchardofbones



Series: Eidolon [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual Sex, Ghost Sex, Haunted Castle, I forgot to tag it AU, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Paranormal Romance, Trans Prompto Argentum, lbr everything I write is AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 07:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: When Prompto finds out his friend's family owns a freakingcastle,of course he agrees to stay there for the summer.Lucis Castle has something of a history, however...





	Resonance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aequoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aequoria/gifts).



> As requested by the wonderful Bish, whose idea gave me endless fountains of inspiration. I'm sure you don't mind that I ran a little over the word count <3

The drive up to the castle is long and winding, overshadowed with tall, spindly trees that seem to drown out every trace of daylight. To Prompto, it feels like he’s been plunged into an unnatural night.

He loves it, though — loves the way the shadows loom between the trunks of the trees, making the forest seem to stretch for miles and miles without end. He spends the whole ride with his face pressed to the window, imagining he can see devils and goblins and sprites playing amongst the trees, dancing in the undergrowth.

Finding out Noctis has a  _ castle _ — well, technically it belongs to the Caelum family, but he’ll inherit it someday — blew him away. When Noct asked if he wanted to come spend the summer there with him? Of course he’d said yes.

‘Holy shit.’

Noct’s breathless words drag Prompto out of his daydream, and he looks toward the front windshield. He doesn’t need to ask what has his friend so awestruck.

Lucis Castle had been beautiful in photographs; in person, it’s jaw-dropping. Even from this far away, it towers over the countryside from its hilltop, all towers and turrets and shining, pristine stone. Prompto feels his stomach drop, and it’s not an unpleasant sensation. He’s  _ giddy _ with excitement.

‘Is it, like, all spooky and abandoned?’ Prompto asks, practically vibrating in his seat.

Noct’s father chuckles from the front passenger seat, and exchanges glances with the driver, Ignis.

‘Lucis Castle hasn’t been inhabited for some years since the last owners passed away,’ Ignis says, ‘but the Caelum stewards have maintained the place nevertheless. Although I must admit it can be rather eerie on a stormy night.’

The drive leads them to the front of the castle, with a manicured lawn and rose bushes spanning alongside the road. Right in front of the entrance is a huge statue of a man with a scythe, his hooded head turned upwards as though seeking out the sun.

‘Whoa,’ Prompto gasps. ‘That’s… creepy.’

Ignis’s eyes meet his in the rearview mirror, just above the frames of his glasses.

‘Lucis Castle is nothing if not full of character.’

The stewards greet them when they get out of the car — a middle-aged guy, tall and broad, steps forward to greet Noct’s father.

‘Regis,’ the man says.

‘Clarus. It’s been far too long.’

There’s a flurry of introductions — Clarus and Dahlia Amicitia, and their kids Gladiolus and Iris — and then they head inside.

The foyer is even more breathtaking than the outside. Marble floors are polished to an impossible shine; double staircases wind around a statue of a woman holding a trident. A chandelier bigger than Prompto’s bedroom hangs from the ceiling, and with a shiver Prompto decides he would  _ not _ like to be underneath that thing if it ever fell.

‘Welcome to Lucis Castle,’ Clarus says, with a sweeping gesture. ‘We hope you enjoy your stay.’

* * *

Prompto cracks his eyes open to find the room in darkness. He must’ve fallen asleep — the last thing he remembers is lazing around with Noct making plans for the week.

When he checks his watch, it’s just before three.

His neck aches from sleeping in an awkward position, and he rubs at it as he sits up. He knows he could get back to sleep if he turned in now, but he’s still in his clothes from the day and he never brushed his teeth.

When he moves to get out of bed, a feeling of profound sadness grips at his chest: mourning.

His neck prickles.

‘Hello?’ he calls, tentatively. ‘Is somebody there?’

The sadness only seems to grow the longer he sits there, along with the feeling that somebody else is close by, close enough to touch.

There’s something at the edge of his vision, just out of the corner of his eye. When he tries to look there’s nothing there — but he tries to relax his vision, tries to let it go hazy, and when the room starts to swim a shape resolves itself at the edge of his bed.

He should be afraid. This is something straight out of those ghost hunter TV shows, legit paranormal activity. But as the figure sitting there begins solidifies, all he feels is…  _ safe. _

A man sits there, back facing him. His long auburn hair is tied loosely behind him, hanging down his pale robes.

It’s like he’s  _ there, _ and yet — somehow, he’s not.

The man rises to his feet, slowly, silently. His tread doesn’t make a sound as he crosses the floor toward the window.

Prompto shivers. This is really happening; it’s not a dream. Noct is  _ not _ going to believe this.

‘Are you real?’ he whispers.

Silence yawns between them. The seconds stretch by into eternity. 

Curiosity compels Prompto to climb out of bed. As gently as he can, he moves across the room and steps up behind the man, stretching out a hand to touch him.

With a blink, he’s gone.

‘You do not shy from me like others do.’

The voice is like the brush of soft lips against Prompto’s earlobe. He thinks the man might be behind him. He’s scared to look — no, not scared. Worried that he’ll turn around, and the man will be gone again.

‘Who are you?’ he asks.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve had need of a name. I was called Ardyn, once.’

_ Ardyn. _ The name fills his head with the scent of the forest; with the sound of trees swaying and creaking in the breeze.

‘I’m Prompto,’ he says softly.

‘I know.’

Prompto wants to ask  _ how _ — how this stranger could know his name, how any of this could be real — but the answer’s already right there, just at the edge of his understanding. 

‘It must be pretty lonely here,’ he says. ‘Nobody to talk to…’

_ I know how it feels, _ he thinks.

A schoolyard filled with kids playing, and somehow he was all alone.

‘It’s not so terrible,’ Ardyn says. ‘Every once in a while, someone comes along to break up the monotony.’

Prompto can hear a smile in his voice. Something about it makes his heart pick up.

‘Like me?’

A soft chuckle, at his ear.

‘Like you.’

‘Why me?’ he murmurs. ‘Why not… Noct, or the Amicitias, or…’

‘There’s something familiar about you,’ Ardyn says. ‘A kindred soul.’

When Prompto stops to think about it, it makes sense, in some weird, long forgotten way. It feels like they’ve met before, somehow. Like they’ll meet again.

‘Can you, like… touch things?’ he asks.

He hears Ardyn’s sigh, weary and forlorn. He thinks he can feel a breath on the back of his neck, cool as the morning dew.

‘Manifesting like this… it takes a lot of strength. Far more than I usually have to muster.’

Prompto tries to quieten his racing mind. All of this is still so unbelievable, and yet it’s very much real, and it’s happening, and he’s not about to waste time overthinking it.

‘So it’s a see-you-or-feel-you kinda deal?’ he says haltingly. ‘One or the other?’

‘More or less.’

Prompto closes his eyes.

Slowly, he pivots on the balls of his feet, and doesn’t stop until he’s all the way round.

When he opens his eyes again, Ardyn’s standing there, as real as the bed, or the wardrobe, or the watch ticking steadily on Prompto’s wrist. Yet when Prompto reaches out to try to touch his shoulder, he’s as intangible as the moonlight.

A pang of disappointment rushes through Prompto. Stupidly, he’d thought that maybe…

‘Can I…’

His voice is so small, it seems to get swallowed up in the pale glow of the moon. When he lifts his eyes to meet Ardyn’s, the man is watching him patiently.

‘Can I touch you? Just… so I know you’re real?’

Ardyn glances down at his own hands, straightening out his long fingers and curling them closed again.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, looking up. ‘It can be unsettling for some.’

Prompto barely has to think about it. Swallowing, he nods.

Ardyn tips his head.

‘Close your eyes.’

Prompto does as he’s asked.

Maybe he’s imagining things, but he feels a shift in the room. He can’t help but worry that Ardyn’s gone for real this time; just as he’s about to open his eyes again, he feels a cool touch at his hand.

Ardyn’s fingers are solid enough, he thinks, although there’s something uncanny about them — like this is all a dream. Ardyn lifts his hand, guiding it, and Prompto feels the rasp of stubble beneath his fingertips.

Ardyn lets go; left to his own devices, Prompto smoothes his fingers over the elegant angle of his jaw, over the cleft of his chin.

Prompto’s heart pounds in his chest, a steady beat urging him onwards. He’s trembling as he lifts his fingers upwards to brush against Ardyn’s lips.

‘Prompto…’

He snatches his hand away with a jolt of regret. Of course. He should’ve known.

‘I- I’m sorry,’ he stammers. ‘I shouldn’t have.’

A hand touches his cheek. He can feel the callouses on Ardyn’s fingers against his skin.

‘No, I…’ Ardyn says, trailing off. ‘It’s just been so very long.’

Prompto wets his lips.

Tentative, he lifts a hand and covers Ardyn’s with it. With his other he reaches out to where Ardyn’s torso should be and feels linen under his fingertips, feels the steady shape of Ardyn’s chest underneath it.

‘How did you die?’ he murmurs.

‘It was a dozen lifetimes ago,’ Ardyn says. ‘An eternity. Does it matter?’

Prompto pauses to think. He guesses it doesn’t, not really.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks.

Ardyn seems to consider it for a long time. He knows it’s a long shot — but to his surprise, he feels Ardyn’s other hand cup his cheek; feels those long robes sweep against him.

‘As you wish.’

Ardyn’s lips are softer than he expects, but cool like the rest of him. The first gentle brush of them sets Prompto tingling from head to toe, right through to the core of him. When he feels Ardyn pull away he leans closer, finding Ardyn’s mouth once more with his own.

He eases his hand down Ardyn’s body, following the shape of his robes. They’re only fastened with a simple belt, from the feel of things — when Prompto slips his hand within, he can feel the toned expanse of muscle at Ardyn’s abdomen, can feel the trail of thick, soft hair inviting him downwards.

‘Prompto,’ Ardyn sighs, and this time it’s a plea for more.

Their lips meet again and again, hungrier now. Ardyn picks him up in one swift movement and carries him toward the bed, and when Prompto opens his eyes it’s as though he’s floating through the air, as though he might drop at any moment.

He doesn’t; Ardyn never lets go, not until he’s laid him gently down on the bed. 

Prompto can’t help but giggle nervously. This is the farthest he’s ever gotten with somebody, and he’s doing it with a  _ ghost. _

‘Something the matter?’

He can’t  _ see _ Ardyn, but he can hear the smirk in his voice. Looking approximately where he thinks Ardyn’s face might be, Prompto shakes his head.

‘No,’ he says. ‘Not at all.’

He feels Ardyn’s touch at his hip; shivers delicately as it brushes over his stomach to the top of his fly.

‘Then,’ Ardyn murmurs, ‘you won’t mind if I do this?’

It’s surreal to watch as the button of Prompto’s jeans pops open, the zipper following soon after. He might not be able to  _ see _ Ardyn, but his lover’s touch is solid and real as Ardyn grips his jeans and eases them down.

Prompto shivers with each inch of exposed skin. Need thrums through him, like nothing he’s ever felt before — he wishes so badly that he could  _ see _ Ardyn’s face, to know if he feels the same.

The jeans are carefully discarded at the end of the bed; the mattress sinks slightly as Ardyn moves.

A cool touch brushes the inside of Prompto’s thigh. He almost yelps at the sensation, but the desire coursing through him is stronger, and he pushes his legs apart. A moment later, Ardyn’s weight settles between them.

More kisses rain on his lips, on his jaw, on his throat. They cease only long enough for Ardyn to pull off his shirt before resuming in earnest once more. Prompto’s lips feel bruised from the force of the kisses; he’s aching, throbbing with need. When his hips arch up toward Ardyn, he feels a solid grip take hold of him, lifting him upwards.

His boxer-briefs slide down his legs, the bed groaning as Ardyn moves. Once they’re cast aside, Prompto feels the weight of Ardyn’s hand settle on his calf.

‘Do you want me, Prompto?’

Prompto gives a hurried little nod. He’s never wanted anything this much in his life.

‘Say it.’

‘I- I want you,’ he says, curling his fingers into the covers. ‘Please…’

He hears the shifting sound of fabric gliding over skin; feels Ardyn’s body settle over his own, one hand at his hip and the other at his cheek.

When Ardyn enters him, it’s like planets colliding — like the first spark as a fire takes hold. Prompto doesn’t even notice the coolness of Ardyn’s touch any more, his senses overwhelmed by the feel of him.

‘Is this all right?’ Ardyn asks.

Prompto’s eyelids flutter closed; he can barely bring his mouth to form the shape of words.

‘Yes,’ he breathes.  _ ‘Yes.’ _

* * *

Prompto wakes to sunlight streaming in through his window, and to the emptiness that tells him he’s alone.

He’d known he would be, somehow. They’d met by the witching hour — of course Ardyn would be gone by the light of day.

He thinks he can still feel a hint of his lover’s touch on his skin, however; still feel the ache where their bodies had become one. When he touches his fingertips to his throat, he can still feel the cool shape of Ardyn’s mouth against it.

* * *

‘You okay, dude? You’ve been quiet all day.’

Prompto blinks himself out of his daydream and refocuses his eyes on Noct where he sits across the table from him.

They head to the nearest town for dinner after spending the day exploring — but Prompto’s head has been in the clouds, still caught up in reveries of Ardyn’s embrace.

‘What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.’

Noct doesn’t look convinced, but he says nothing more.

Prompto slips his phone out of his pocket. When Noct isn’t looking, he sets his alarm for a little before three.

He doesn’t know if it’ll work — doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Ardyn again — but he has to try. Something’s been awoken inside him by Ardyn’s touch; something fierce, and hungry.

It feels like he’ll die if he never again holds his lover in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/orchardofbones) | [tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com)


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